Gleam in Its Eye, Bright As a Rose
by actress-xx
Summary: Rachel falls asleep in the theatre and has a sex-dream about her Tony; enter Blaine Anderson.


**TITLE: **Gleam in Its Eye, Bright As a Rose

**AUTHOR: **actress_xx

**RATING: **NC-17

**PAIRING: **Blaine/Rachel

**SUMMARY: **Rachel falls asleep in the theatre and has a sex-dream about her Tony; enter Blaine Anderson.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own _Glee_; title from "Something's Coming" from _West Side Story_.

Although it promises that _West Side Story_'s opening night is finally approaching, tech week fucking sucks. Classes and homework are as demanding as ever at McKinley, a school that clearly doesn't view theatrical rehearsals and performances as something that should earn students a break on deadlines the way athletic practices and games seem to. Between schoolwork and rehearsals that stretch well into the night for the sake of finagling lights, scenery, costumes, and anything else classified as a technical aspect of theatre, Blaine Anderson is exhausted. Thankfully, his third period happens to be Spanish with Mr. Schuester, who may or may not have slipped a drowsy Blaine a hall-pass to the auditorium. He'd flashed his teacher a grateful smile and gathered his things, and now his mission is to snatch a pillow from the props table, and catch a nap for the next forty-five minutes.

He slips into the backstage area, heading directly for where he knows the pillow used in the bedroom scene has been stashed, but it's not there. The sheets are in their proper place, as well as a masking-tape label reading _Act II, Scene 1_ in Miss Pillsbury's impressively perfect cursive, but the pillow is missing. His gaze flickers around the area for a few seconds, but he's not willing to waste his window of precious free-time searching for it, and Blaine grabs up his backpack and steps onto the stage, intending to just lay down and fold his arms under his head. If that doesn't work, maybe he can attempt to curl up in one of the seats, or at the very least practice the eight-count that's been giving him trouble in one of the dance routines.

That last plan is scratched when he stumbles upon a figure laying on the hardwood, her brunette tresses fanned across the elusive pillow as she sleeps. Blaine immediately recognizes the figure, though he takes a few steps forward to confirm his suspicion: Rachel Berry.

_Of course she even naps center-stage_, Blaise muses, smirking to himself as he gazes down at his co-star. He knows how tired she is. Rachel has transformed into Maria every night of rehearsal, singing and sobbing and screaming until she's spent. She'll crawl through school the next day, perk up slightly for Glee, and manage to seem entirely recharged when she enters the theatre come late afternoon to restart the entire cycle. Blaine feels a twinge of guilt in knowing that he hasn't been able to muster the same strength, giving Rachel a less-than-stellar performance to play off of, but she's powered through, and he draws whatever energy he does manage to find onstage from her. The girl is a fucking _star_.

He lays nearby, still jealous that Rachel has the damn pillow, but tired enough that he barely feels the stage beneath him. All he wants is for everything to stop, for lyrics and choreography and blocking to fade away long enough for him to sleep. It takes a few minutes, but they eventually do, and Blaine can't remember the last time everything was this quiet, especially in the auditorium. He's just about to slip into unconsciousness when there's a mumble, a sound so fragile that it's only audible because everything else is silent, and Blaine's lashes flutter open. Rachel comes into focus, and Blaine notices that her head is lolling back and forth on the pillow as her volume slightly increases. He crawls towards her, intending to shake her out of the nightmare he assumes is plaguing her, but stops in his tracks when her murmurs form words.

"Mmm, Tony, _yes_."

Blaine gradually comprehends what's occurring, continuing to stare at Rachel as the battle between embarrassment and fascination plays out inside of him; she's become so enthralled in her role that even her sex-dreams are revolving around their characters. Forcing himself to ignore the question of whether or not this means that the girl is technically fantasizing about him, Blaine reaches out a hand to shake her, but loses his nerve, running it over his face instead. Rachel's teeth scrape across her bottom lip as she bites down, leaving a subtle track in her lipgloss and stifling a tiny sound in her throat, and when she tilts her head to the side, Blaine is absolutely _not_ wondering if her imaginary lover is sprinkling kissing along her collarbone. Rachel's hip grind against something unseen, and Blaine glances at the gyration for just a second before Rachel is mumbling again, and he's staring at her mouth as the words tumble out.

"Need you, Tony, please, need it."

His eyes trail down to her legs, and Blaine notices that she's been squeezing her thighs together beneath her pleated skirt, knees rubbing against each other as she shifts to chase the tiny bit of friction she's receiving. Blaine wants to wake her, put her out of her misery, but the threat of the uncomfortable exchange that might come of that deters him. He considers backing away, heading backstage to create some noise to see if he can get Rachel to stir on her own, or maybe he can exit the theatre completely, call her name in fake surprise as he reenters and pretends to stumble across her. His gameplan is barely formulated when Rachel's lips bend into a pout, and a teardrop escapes from the corner of her eye.

"_Tony._"

He doesn't quite think his next move through, instinct taking over as he reaches out to remove the tear with a brush of his thumb. Rachel turns her pretty face into the touch, and Blaine yanks his hand away as though he's been scalded. Her brow creases in frustration and she lets out a quiet, barely-audible whine that breaks Blaine's heart until he's on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as his other hand cradles her cheek. She's wrecked, tired and anxious and lonely, and if she were awake, Blaine would just want to give the poor thing a fucking hug, but she's not; she's crashing on a high school stage, fantasizing about the handsome guy that sweeps her off her feet night after night, even if he only does so because their love is scripted.

When his fingertips trace the curve of Rachel's neck, it's almost experimental, and he watches intently as her lips part to release a small, contented noise. He traces designs into her skin, enamored with the reactions he draws from the sleeping girl, his breath increasing along with hers when his finger skates along the swell of her cleavage. Rachel is squirming against the hardwood, and Blaine lowers his hand to play at the bit of her torso that's become exposed by her movements. She whimpers, the muscles of her thighs finally relaxing enough to let her legs fall slightly open, and it's enough to stifle the rational section of Blaine's mind that's been screaming about how many ways this scenario can go wrong. He drags his hand along the length of her inner-thigh, and Rachel gently thrusts her hips downward, legs trembling almost as much as her voice when she gasps out, "Please, _need_ you."

"I'm right here," Blaine promises as he locates the damp triangle of fabric between her legs. He presses him palm against it, regressing to how he would touch a male lover, but it seems to do the trick, because Rachel is rocking against the pressure enough to spur him on. He tugs the cotton aside, and she's _soaked_. His fingertips slide through her slickness as he traces her slit, until he knocks against the tiny pearl that rips a high-pitched sigh from Rachel's throat. Blaine's eyes widen, and he clumsily teases her clit, obsessed with the delicious sounds he's able to cause, and suddenly comprehending why Puck insists on delineating all of his sexcapades in the locker room.

"_Ah!_ Tony, please - oh, God, want you, need you, Tony, _please_."

"Shhh," Blaine whispers as he delves two fingers inside of Rachel. Her words fizzle away into breathy, staccato moans as he works his fingers in and out of her, using a skill that he's never tried with a female before. He finger-fucks her until her walls are fluttering around him, and he drops his lips next to her ear, pressing a kiss just behind her lobe.

"C'mon, love, I've got you. I'm right here. Cum for me, pretty girl, cum on my fingers."

Blaine digs the heel of his hand against Rachel's clit, and she grinds hungrily against it as she comes undone, her pussy clenching his fingers as she climaxes. Blaine's pupils are completely dilated as he stares down at her, enchanted by the way her glossed lips form the same perfect o-shape as when she blasts through her high notes, and how she's glowing like she does when they rehearse her bow for curtain-call. Blaine slows the tempo of his thrusts while Rachel comes down, chest heaving but features peaceful, and he finally extracts his fingers completely, straightening her underwear. His fingers are glistening with her orgasm, and he doesn't really think before popping them into his mouth to clean them; she tastes bittersweet.

His trance is broken when Rachel turns, rolling onto her side and away from him, and that's Blaine's cue to sit up. He notices a cramp in the elbow that's been supporting his weight the entire time, and he remains on the floor beside Rachel as flexes his arm a few times. When he glances over, Rachel is snuggling up with the pillow, and he slips out of the auditorium without looking back. He never does manage to get his nap, spending the rest of the period drilling choreography in the dance studio until the next bell rings. By the time he finds Kurt in the hallway between classes, greeting him with a kiss just a bit too passionate, Blaine has mastered the art of forgetting, and everything that happened in the theatre is just a surreal memory. Still, that night at rehearsal, he finally realizes what it means to leave his soul on the stage, regardless of how miserably exhausted he is, and Rachel squeezes his hand as they bow together.

"Love my Tony," she whispers, and Blaine smirks halfheartedly.

"Love you too, Rach," and he does, even if it's not in the way that she needs.


End file.
